


In the Fire's Light

by TheWonderConner



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Family Fluff, Female Robin - Freeform, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, mother-son bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 11:04:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17600099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWonderConner/pseuds/TheWonderConner
Summary: Morgan has a nightmare. Robin tries to help. Even though they're from different times, they come to understand each other a little bit better.





	In the Fire's Light

              Morgan decided that the good thing about helping his mother plan out camp patrols was that he knew them all by heart. That made it simple enough to slip unnoticed through the lines of tents and late-burning fires to the edge of the clearing the Shepherds had stopped in for the night. It wasn’t that he didn’t _like_ the people running patrols—in fact, they knew him well and most would call out to share a joke or story with him.

              And that was exactly the problem that night; he wasn’t seeking company.

              Morgan sniffled and ran the heel of one palm across his cheeks, wiping away the remnants of tears. He’d woken maybe ten minutes before, sobbing and kicking at the bedroll tangled around his legs, from a nightmare he only half-remembered. His friends—the ones he’d met only after rejoining with his mother—were all there, he recalled. And they were all angry— _so_ angry, and at him.

              Even reviewing the bit of the dream that sat in his mind prompted a visceral reaction—Morgan’s breath caught in his throat and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. What had he _done_ to make them all so angry? Was it that he didn’t remember? Could that be his greatest blunder in their eyes? They certainly all had memories of _him,_ so what if it was that they resented him for forgetting? He slid down the tree he leaned against to sit on the ground, pulling his knees up to his chest and pressing his face against them. They all seemed close, by his best judgement, but what if that was just his mind playing tricks, what if it was just him being lonely and wanting—

              “Morgan?”

              He jerked his head up, startled. “Mother?”

              “What are you doing out here?” Robin was barely visible with her back to the camp; only her pale hair reflected the firelight, done up in its trademark style. “I thought you went to bed hours ago.”

              “I—” Morgan hesitated for a moment, his mind already churning over some story to tell. He was supposed to be the happy, optimistic one, dammit. Another hot wash of anger at himself swooped through his belly. There was no need for him to bother anyone with the nightmares of some random amnesiac. Robin tilted her head, and Morgan reconsidered. He couldn’t lie to her. His mother always knew— _always,_ somehow—when he lied. “I had trouble sleeping.”

              “Ah.” Robin crossed the distance between them and sat down, scooting close so that her hip pressed against his and their shoulders softy knocked together. Morgan waited in silence, then leaned against her. Robin hummed a tune he couldn’t place and pillowed her cheek on the top of his head. “Do you want to talk about it?”

              “I don’t know,” Morgan said. He took a deep breath and tried to ground himself in the present. The warm weight of his mother against him, the cold creeping up through his coat and pants into his legs, the flickering light of the carefully maintained campfires. . . .

              “Do you have nightmares often, in the future?”

              “What?” Morgan shifted and Robin pulled away enough so she could look him in the eyes. “How did you--?”

              “You do the same thing I do when I have nightmares,” Robin said softly. “And you’ve got tear tracks all down your face. I doubt you’d be crying over something as simple as not being able to get to sleep.”

              “Can’t get anything past you,” Morgan mumbled, leaning back against her. This time Robin wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. “No, I didn’t. I mean, when I was little there were monsters under the bed and in the closet. That kind of thing. But I never had nightmares much.” He sighed. “And when I did, you were always there. To make them go away.”

              “I see,” Robin said. “Tell me, how did I make those nightmares go away?”

              “Lots of different things,” Morgan said. He held up a hand, ticking off memories. “Sometimes we’d play chess. Sometimes you’d make me a snack, something warm. When I was really little, you’d read storybooks to me until I fell asleep.”

              “Well, my chess set is back in my tent and the only book I have is a manual on tactical maneuvers with mages.” Robin dug into a pocket of her coat and produced a small, fat book. “Not exactly storybook material, I’m afraid to say.” She looked back towards the camp. “And in this light, I doubt I could read it anyway.”

              Morgan laughed. “That’s okay, Mother. It’s nice just sitting here with you.” He snuggled closer and played with the hem of one sleeve, pulling at a loose thread.

              “I’m glad I could help,” Robin said. She moved her hand so she could card her fingers through his hair. “Although if you feel the need to, Morgan, you can always talk to me.” Her fingers paused, resting gently against his scalp. “About anything.”

              “I know, Mother,” Morgan murmured, lulled half to sleep as Robin began playing with his hair again. “I wasn’t thinking.”

              “It’s all right,” Robin said. “Just know that I’m here for you if you need anything, okay?”

              “Thank you,” Morgan said. He closed his eyes and put his head on her shoulder. “Mother?”

              “Hm?”

              “Can we . . . stay like this? Just for a little while longer?” Even though he felt a bit childish doing so, he tangled one hand in the fabric of her coat, clinging to it. “I don’t remember the last time we were this close.”

              “For a little while longer,” Robin agreed. She felt a smile play at her lips as she held him close. “I love you, Morgan.”

              “I love you, too, Mother.” 

**Author's Note:**

> For my mother  
> June 15, 1955-January 30, 2018


End file.
